Persistance of Memory
by Dartz-IRL
Summary: A accident leaves Shinji hopitalised for a week. It seems simple enough, but slowly, he begins to feel that something may be terribly wrong. OneShot.


Shinji could feel himself drifting, as if his mind, his body or even, his very soul were being held aloft on warm fluid. It closed in around him, comforting and cosseting him, it's soothing heat soaking to the very core of his being.

He was at peace.

A blissful state of no-mind slowly subsuming his being.

"So this is what death is like," he thought finally.

It was nice.

An end to it all.

**I...I**

Persistance of Memory

1-shot fanfiction by DartzIRL  
With preread assistance from Himonky and JCM

I don't own NGE, someone else does.  
Other stuff might be mentioned that's copyright  
I don't own it either  
Just a bit of fun anyway.**  
**

**I...I**

Shinji eyes shot open, a harsh white glare burning his retinas. The boy blinked, coughed, then jumped upright in his bed, rubbing his eyes. Immediately, he became aware of a bitter-sweet industrial pine scent, tingling in his nostrils.

Cleaning fluid of some sort, it had to be.

Slowly, his vision cleared.

A bay window to his right, allowing bright sunlight into the room. Pale, duck-egg coloured walls on three sides, with a single steel door to his right. A tower of medical equipment stood beside him, chirping out his vitals, and and a clear I.V. Line fed his wrist, drips of pink fluid running along it.

He groaned, then flopped down onto his back, his gaze settling on the by now painfully familiar ceiling above him.

"Infirmary," he said, his voice hoarse and unused.

It was, by his count, his seventh time waking up in that bed.

**I...I**

"Oh thank God you're alright," His guardian rushed to embrace him.

She was warm. Shinji could feel himself melting into her soft arms. He could hear her heartbeat soothing in his ear.

If there was one thing he knew about Misato Katsuragi, it was that she was very comfortable. She'd even seemed to have learned how not to tweak his ribs when she hugged him.

"You've been asleep for nearly a week now, Shin-chan," she said, releasing him.

A week? The boy thought, gulping.

"What happened?"

Misato looked at him funny for a moment, as if it had come to her as a strange question to ask. It unnerved the teenager to see it. Then she sighed and relaxed, smiling at the boy..

"Ritsuko said this was a possibility with head injuries. You were coming home from school last Tuesday, do you remember?"

No, he couldn't. The last thing he remembered was...something. It was there, he could sense it, but it was just out of his reach. It was like a ledge hidden in infinite darkness, with the hand of his awareness stretching out wildly in the hope of grabbing it.

And missing.

"No,"

His voice was small and worried.

"Well, that's okay Shinji," the woman reassured him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

It wasn't as effective as she thought it would be.

"You see, when you were crossing the road, you were.."

Both sat there in awkward, pregnant silence, each waiting for the other to finish. Shinji though, knew he had no answers to give.

"You were hit by a car Shinji,"

Misato finished quickly, the way a child would eat its broccoli just to get it out of the way with as little suffering as possible.

"What?"

**I...I**

The drive home was quiet.

Shinji just sat dourly in the passenger seat while Misato drove. He felt sick to his stomach. It had been a hit and run, Misato had told him, some dumbass joyrider in a stolen car.

But still, asleep for a week?

It didn't seem possible.

It seemed strange to him, that everything he knew about Tokyo-3 seemed the exact same. Okay, so he didn't expect much of a change inside a few days, but still, there had to be _something._

The clock on the dashboard sat-nav though, didn't lie.

He sighed and leant back into the sports bucket seat. Even if he had been knocked out for a week, he certainly didn't feel like it. To him, it had felt like nothing but a refreshing night's sleep.

Except for the mild case of Rip Van Winkle effect of course.

It was unsettling though, to know that there was a part of his life that was just gone. Like a hole inside his memory, it was only really noticeable by its absence.

He repeatedly interrogated himself about it. 'What is your last memory?' his mind's inquisitor would demand. Of course, he couldn't even answer that.

He remembered himself of course, and his identity.

Shinji knew who and what he was, he knew who and what Misato was. He could write his entire life into a book if he was asked, but strangely, he wasn't sure if he actually _remembered_ any of it.

He just sort of _knew._

It was the same feeling he'd gotten when Misato told him about the accident, about how he'd been sealed off in intensive care for nearly three days. He knew it had happened, but only because he was being told. The only difference between this and his life's record was that it wasn't his guardian telling the tale, but some little voice reading it inside his mind, as if from a printed script.

It was a different thing from memory, he guessed. Memory had a depth of feeling to it. You didn't just know what happened, you could picture yourself there. You could smell it, you could touch it, you could even lose yourself to it if you weren't careful.

To him, his life felt like it was being read back to him. The script may have detailed every nuance, every scintillating detail, but it was different. It still felt oddly...detached from the moment.

Maybe, the child surmised, his brains had been scrambled more than anybody had thought.

**I...I**

"I'm home," he announced with the enthusiasm of being resigned to a life of penal servitude. He stepped through the door of the Katsuragi apartment and slipped from his white tennis shoes, not really expecting a response.

"Welcome home Shinji-kun!" came the rosy, cheerful answer.

Asuka?

She was standing there with a bright smile on her face, her eyes glistening almost. It didn't take long for Shinji to notice that she hadn't just cleaned herself up, she'd practically polished herself to an impeccable shine. She was wearing that wheat coloured sundress of hers, with red bows tied onto perfectly conditioned and brushed hair.

He was rather stunned to see her approach him, even more so when she embraced him in a crushing bear hug.

How could she even be so strong?

"I always knew you had a hard head Third Child," she said, but with none of that usual Asuka Langley Sorhyu venomous arrogance. She was being strangely playful almost, hugging him tightly, like a long lost brother.

Her perfume smelled nice.

"I'm glad you're back Shinji," she said softly.

It was unsettling.

He'd been asking for some sort of change, to prove he'd been away, but now. . . This _wasn't_ what he'd wanted at all. This person, she didn't feel like his Asuka, she felt like some doppelgänger for the Second Child. She looked like his Asuka, smelled like his Asuka, but she sure as hell didn't act like her.

He wanted to return her affection, Oh Lord how he just wanted to say 'hang it all' and hug her back, to just relax into her loving embrace and enjoy the moment.

But he couldn't.

Instead, his back went as stiff as a plank, his arms stretching rigidly out, almost like he was trying to levitate himself free from her arms.

It just felt wrong to be there, like he was taking advantage of her somehow. The boy certainly knew he hadn't done anything to _deserve_ her anyway.

Slowly, Asuka pushed him back, with a confused and perhaps hurt look on her face.

"What happened?" she asked hollowly.

"Doctor Akagi said there may be some memory problems Asuka. He just mightn't remember." Misato said gravely.

"Oh.."

It hung in the air like a tonne of bricks over their heads, ready to fall at any moment. Shinji watched Asuka blink, then slowly begin to shiver, as if whatever had possessed her was being fought from the inside by the real Asuka.

It seemed for a moment as if something was about to erupt from inside her, as if the real Second Children was about to tear her way free from inside in a shower of blood and guts.

It was an utterly fascinating prospect.

He watched her ice blue eyes shimmer with tears as she hiccupped, then swallowed a lump in her throat. Asuka screwed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth.

The doppelgänger was winning, it was forcing the real Sorhyu down again.

Asuka coughed, and when she opened her eyes again, they had taken on a cold, hard glare. She was staring right through him, looking down on him. For a moment, his heart jumped.

Asuka was back!

Then, he saw the flat, expressionless look on her face. Deliberately cool, deliberately middling, under control.

"Well then," she huffed, and tossed her long hair, her voice with a stinging iron tang, "It's a good thing that you're back _Third Child_, Misato's cooking was beginning to make me sick."

Shinji was left with the disgusting feeling that, maybe, he may have hurt Asuka deeper than he could ever know. Of course, that would be typical for a disgusting little wretch like himself.

"Get cooking _Third Child_! I'm hungry," The German ordered.

"Um...Yes Asuka," he stuttered compliantly.

**I...I**

_Air on a G-String_ by Johann Sebastian Bach.

It had always been Shinji's favourite classical piece. It wasn't the easiest to play, nor the most technically impressive, but he just liked listening to himself play. It was such a soothing tune, cooling and calming, something he could allow all his sorrows to drift away on.

It carried his spirit away from the world, until, for one brief moment, he thought he could see himself looking down on it, not just on himself, but, for one ecstatic instant, he felt he could see the entire world, a brilliant blue marble hanging in free space before him.

A single, alien thought entered his mind.

"_Ikari-kun?"_

Rei's voice.

"Gah!"

Instantly, he was snapped out of his reverie by some exploding agony snapping at the tips of his fingers.

Red blood, from a papercut.

Red blood on the strings of his instrument.

He looked at his hand, his skin pillow soft, creasing as he gripped and released it. There were no callouses on his finger-tips, as would be expected from an experienced cellist.

There was nothing but soft skin, raw and stinging when he touched it.

A week wasn't really _that _long of a time to not be playing, was it? He groaned, then slowly returned the wooden instrument to its case. It was still marked 'Ikari, Yui' in faded ink. He'd have to build up his 'experience' again before he could attempt any longer pieces.

He snuggled back, and tried to find a comfortable place in his closet bedroom. He was barely small enough to fit in it, and he shared it with shelves of spare towels and clothes but, it was free, and it was his.

And then, he heard it, the sound penetrating through the paper thin wall his closet shared with Asuka's bedroom. He thought, he could here her crying.

He felt sick.

Shinji knew it was _his_ fault.  
**  
I...I**

At school the next day, Shinji was treated like some sort of hero. Kensuke had even offered to show him the video, but Asuka had stolen on the disk before he even got the chance to play it.

He didn't dare question why.

It wasn't that he didn't care, he just wanted everyone to leave him alone so he could eat his lunch in peace. He didn't like being reminded about how close he'd come to death.

He certainly didn't like Asuka charging around and interrupting each time somebody tried to tell him anyway. She'd already punched someone in the gut who'd decided to call her Asuka Ikari for some reason.

It was all so very confusing.

And, judging by the shadow that was cast across his lap, someone else had decided to keep it that way. The teenager was about to tell them where they could shove their questions, but paused when he noticed _who_ had sat beside him.

"Ayanami," he said.

The azure haired girl nodded.

"It is agreeable to see you Ikari-kun" she said in the soft voice of hers.

"Thank you, Ayanami."

It was perhaps, the most honest thing anyone had said to him all day. There was something else he'd wanted to say, but he swallowed his words. Why ruin the moment?

He could just sit there and enjoy her presence.

"I also like that piece," Rei said.

"Uh...what piece?" Shinji questioned.

"The one you were playing on your cello last night," she answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I found it, pleasing."

Shinji blanched. Then shivered as a chill ran up his spine. For a moment, he knew she'd been watching him, somehow.

"How?" his mouth asked on autopilot.

Had she wired his bedroom for sound? Maybe she'd dropped by the apartment without him knowing? Ockhams Razor stated that the simplest explanation would usually be the correct one.

Rei slowly backed away, her gentle expression changing from one of mild curiosity, through confusion. She broke eye contact with Shinji and looked almost sheepishly at her feet.

It was a look Shinji recognised as one he'd worn himself a thousand times.

"You were not told. Then I apologise. Good day Ikari-kun," she stated, before making to stand up.

Oh God, I've offended her too! Shinji didn't know what he could've said or done, but he _knew_ he'd done something. Just like Asuka, he'd screwed up again. Now Rei would hate him as well.

Everyone would hate him, and he knew he'd deserve it.

"Rei I...I'm sorry! Please stay with me," he begged, gripping the hem of her skirt loosely.

Her red eyes locked with his for a moment, and instantly, Shinji was terrified that she was about to slap him, that his instant of stupid desperation had destroyed any hope of friendship he may have entertained.

Instead, to his relief, she nodded her assent, and sat back down beside him.

"Thank you, Ayanami," he sighed.

Again, she nodded.

"So..." he paused, wondering if he should push the point. "How...How did you hear me play?"

His voice was shaking like a leaf, betraying his nervousness.

"We are connected, you and I." Rei answered cryptically. "Kindred beings."

"Connected," Shinji parroted. "How?"

What did she mean 'Kindred beings'? What was going on?

"I cannot say," the First Child answered abruptly.

"You don't know?"

"No, I cannot say."

So there was something going on!

Shinji almost jumped down Rei's throat, almost ready to wring the information out of her. He knew he'd felt weird, he knew something was up. Now, it had all but been confirmed to him.

"Then," he coughed, and struggled for breath. "What _can_ you say?"

"Nothing," answered Rei calmly. "I have already said too much. I apologise Ikari-kun."

What?

If Shinji didn't know any better, he could have sworn Rei was looking guilty. He was making her feel bad as well.

"Speak to Commander Ikari if you must know. He is the only one who can answer your questions."

My father? Shinji thought. A lightning bolt of anger shot through him and he clenched his fist to try and catch it.

"My father is responsible for this?"

"I must go. Good day Ikari-kun"

Quietly, Rei stood up and left him sitting on the wall.

"Wait Rei!" he called after her. "It's not your fault. It's mine! It's my fault Rei. I'm Sorry!"

She didn't come back. He was left sitting there, wallowing in blame and self hatred, until the bell rang. Of course, he was an idiot. He was repulsive and disgusting. He drove everyone he'd ever care about away.

Whatever was going on, it was his fault.

He was always destined to be lonely.

**I...I**

It's only a door, Shinji tried to tell himself. It's only a simple reinforced steel door.

My father is only a man. He'll either tell me what I want to know or not.

I'll lose nothing if I try.

Shinji felt like puking. His breath came fast and heavy, the boys fight or flight response screaming 'flight' at the top of his lungs, and every part of his body beneath the neck was answering in agreement.

Still, he could not move.

His white tennis-shoes were rooted to the concrete floor like trees, solid against any storm, against any attempt to move them from their place.

He groaned, then forced his fears down as far as they could go, deep down into that dark oubliette at the bottom of his mind. If he wanted to know, he had to go forward.

He didn't even realise he'd pushed the chime button until after his father's voice had answered "enter" in flat, digitised tones.

He knew he had to run away. He knew he had to get as far as he could from that room, yet some strange destrudo drove him forward against his better judgement.

Before he could do anything to stop himself, he was standing in that vast office, beneath a decorated silver tracework circle marked, 'Markhut'

His father sat opposite him, at the other end of the shining tree, glowering at him across laced, white gloved hands.

Shinji could see his own reflection in the elder Ikari's glasses. He could see himself grab his own arm, and shift his weight nervously from leg to leg, almost like he was standing on the deck of a ship caught in the mother of all typhoons.

He certainly _felt_ seasick.

"Why have you come?" The old man spoke in cold, sepulchral tones.

"I..." he paused to gather himself. "I'm here to ask you something."

His small voice seemed lost, almost detached from his being. It was ripped up and swallowed entirely by the vastness of the room.

"Do not waste my time with frivolous matters _Third Child_. If you have something to ask me, it better be important."

Shinji knew this had been a bad idea.

"I want to..." again, he stuttered embarrassingly, then caught his breath. "I want to know what happened!"

This time, his voice escaped the clutched of the office voice, rising above it and ringing off the distant walls.

"You'll have to be more specific than that."

To the teenager, the voice seemed almost scornful, deliberately crushing him down into the floor, and sure, he wanted to do just that. Every instinct in his body implored him to escape with his sanity while he still could.

And yet still, he stood there.

"Ever since I left the hospital, everything has felt wrong for some reason. I can't explain it better than that, it just has."

"So, you waste my time over some petty childish fear,"

"No!" Shinji whined. "It's...it's more than that. Asuka hugged me when I got home. She never hugs me, she doesn't even _like_ me. And then, when I went to play my cello, I had callouses on my fingers from it, but they were gone."

"So?" The Commander tried to interrupt the boys momentum

"Then, this morning, Ayanami, she said to me that, the two of us were 'kindred beings'. She seemed to know more about it too, but she said she couldn't say more. That means something did happen, doesn't it?"

Shinji's final question wasn't answered, at least, not immediately. The boy was left standing there, shivering like a scared puppy.

"And you wish to know _what_ happened, is this correct?"

"Yes," Shinji answered.

"Are you sure?" Gendou pressed. "Once you learn the truth, you may not be able to handle it. If you wish, you may leave this room, and we will agree that this conversation never happened. Do you so wish?"

"No," Shinji muttured.

"So you wish to take this proceeding to its final conclusion then?"

"Yes."

"Very well then," Commander Ikari said, dropping his laced hands to the table. The old man sat back in his leather chair, regarding the third child through his indifferent rose glasses.

Shinji felt he knew what the ant under the magnifying glass felt like.

The old man pressed a button on his desk, releasing an alarm red hotline phone.

"Dr. Akagi," he said. "Please handle my appointments for the next three hours, I will be busy. And prepare system Delta-Three-Charlie for immediate use. Ikari out."

Does this mean?

"I will take you to see the truth. It is not something that can be easily explained."

**I...I**

The journey down was quiet, neither of the two Ikaris finding much to say. Shinji's heart was racing, his blood almost simmering in his veins.

He was terrified.

Standing in that claustrophobic steel box lift with his father, slowly sinking down into the very bowels of the earth, it made him wonder if, perhaps, that car had killed him and that it was his sentence in hell to spend the rest of eternity with that old man.

It certainly seemed like he'd been standing there forever, his stomach dancing in knots as he tried to keep his lunch down.

"Your mother wished for a bright future for you Shinji. It's the reason she made the choices that she did."

"What?...My mother?"

What did she have to do with this?

He looked up at the old man, to find he was still staring off at some spot on the steel wall just to the left of the door. He won't even look at me, he thought.

"Yes Shinji, but shortly after her disappearance, it became clear to me that, that future, at least as she intended it, could not come to pass."

Shinji's mind was already reeling with questions, each one clamouring for attention the way a starving sparrow chick would beg its mother for food, and its mother not having enough to go around.

He wanted to say something, but could only taste acrid bile when he tried to speak.

"In order to ensure your survival, and that of humanity, I initiated the Human Instrumentality Project."

"Instrumentality?"

Gendou thought on it for a moment.

"A way to achieve paradise Shinji, to open the gates of heaven and allow each and every one of us to live there, under God's benevolent graces. That is the best way for you to understand it. "

The boy said nothing, Gendou really didn't expect him to either. He just stood there shaking, his mind like an oversaturated sponge trying to absorb the information, and more importantly, _understand_ it.

"Ayanami Rei was created as the key..."

A spark went off in Shinji's mind, a single illuminating flash that for an instant, made everything perfectly clear. His Father had created her. She was his key.

He was _using_ her as a tool.

It was repulsive.

It was disgusting.

"What the hell are you doing with her?!"

The boy's, sudden, explosive outburst rang off the metal walls, decaying to silence.

"She is, like I said, the first key to the project's completion," His Father answered calmly, appearing unaffected almost. "That is her purpose in this life,"

Privately, Shinji admired him for it, the way he seemed to stand there stoic like a lighthouse against the raging sea, shrugging off obstacles and responsibilities that Shinji knew, would have left himself huddled in a pathetic little ball under some table.

Yet, he hated him. It was deep, it was tangible hate, the bilious kind he could almost taste. While he felt that his father may not have deserved his hate, he certainly couldn't _love_ him either. He'd been abandoned, tossed away like a child's unwanted toy, and then, just when he'd gotten used to that fact, dragged back again to be used as some tool.

It simmered below the surface, threatening to boil over into some explosive blast of fury. Shinji wanted to scream it back into his father's face. He wanted so desperately to lay into him for all those years of neglect and indifference.

He had this horrible, gut wrenching feeling that, rather than just being abandoned in an example of extremely lacklustre parenting, he had been actively _neglected_ and ignored, all to serve his Father's purpose.

He whimpered and whined, wanting desperately to be released from his incarceration. He wanted to forget about this. He wanted to go home. Even if he had to be teased by the terrible twosome of Asuka and Misato until his dying day, it was infinitely better than descending another foot in this lift with that old man.

"The second key Shinji," Gendou said in weighty, Vader tones, "Is you."

"Me?"

He _is _using me. Oh God, please just let me get out of this, please just let me leave this place and go back home and never have to hear of this again.

"It was a role I originally intended for myself, but, your accident presented an opportunity. I do believe however, that Yui would've wished it to be this way, if at all."

Shinji felt a sudden jolt as the lift reached its destination. He barely had time to collect his thoughts into some semblance of rationality before his father beckoned him to follow with a simple "Come."

And of course, like the good little lamb he was, he followed willingly behind him.

This new corridor was dark, and, if it could be such a thing, so thick with blackness you could almost have to wade through it, rather than walk. Shinji could barely pick up the outline of the man in front of him through the inky blackness.

The dust in the air tickled the back of his throat, and he had to stifle a cough. This simple, precast concrete passageway exuded an air of lingering menace. It seemed almost, that if he made the slightest sound, his life would be snatched away by unseen forces hidden behind the myriad of uniform steel doors set into each wall.

He didn't doubt that some of them probably hadn't been opened in years. Each one had a small metal device beside it with a light on it, forming a row of lights stretching into infinite deep blackness. Each light was a little glowing red devil-eye, watching for any falter in his step, any opportunity to pounce.

His heart pulsed like a jackhammer in his ears, growing louder with each step until it seemed like the only thing he could hear was his racing heartbeat.

The dirty, unfinished grey concrete walls closed in around him. It seemed in his mind as if he would be crushed between the two if he didn't keep up with the old man's lead.

His route back to the lift was probably already blocked behind him too.

There was no way out.

No way out but to go forward.

Then his father stopped beside a door. Patiently standing, waiting for him.

"Rei told you that you were kindred beings, am I right?"

"Y...Yes."

"I thought perhaps, you deserved to see what she meant by that. The answer you seek is through this door, Shinji."

With a practiced flash, Gendou ran his ID card through the cleavage of a small electronic reader, nestled into the wall. It answered with an electronic chirp, a little light on it's housing switching from angry red, to a compliant green.

A second later, it struggled, the oil starved mechanism grinding as it pulled the door open. Immediately, a blast of foul, stale air rushed out, seemingly followed by an eerie, penetrating orange glow.

Printed on the wall beside the door:

System D 003-C

He staggered forward into that warm light, his legs carrying him where he did not want to go. Inside, he was aware of a great, heaving breath, the air inside stirred up and being moved by what must have been a monster pair of lungs.

He came face to face with himself.

For a moment, he regarded himself with a strange curiosity, wondering for a brief instant if he really was that thin, before the slow, skin crawling realisation that something was god-awfully wrong with this overcame him.

Shinji shivered and swallowed spit. He backstepped, then looked around the maddening orange tinted fun house, regarding each reflected Shinji in turn, before finally, it struck him.

His naked reflection was staring _back_ at him, a hundred times through the orange mirror glass that made up the walls of this room.

"What..." he coughed. "What is this!?" he screamed.

A hundred pairs of cobalt blue eyes locked onto him at that moment. Each pair curiously penetrating, burning its way right to his soul. Each pair seemed to be dragging at it, ripping, _tearing_ at his very being, if only to feed on some small piece of it.

They were the vultures, and his soul was their carrion.

"This, Shinji, is the Dummy Plug System. Rei was born from a system very much like this one. She was created from the same basic genetic building blocks as you,"

Shinji couldn't hear him. Even if he could, he couldn't have possibly understood him. He just screamed. It was a howling scream of pure, maddening absolute terror. One hundred mouths answered him, hanging open in a demented, soundless chorus.

"If I were to allow you to die Shinji, either in action, or in accident, when I had the power to save you, Yui would never forgive me for it. So I created this, so that you may live, and that you may continue to live." Ikari spoke in grave, final tones. "At least, until the final moment comes."

Shinji dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably into his hands. He couldn't even breath.

"For doing this, I am truly sorry Shinji, but you must believe that it is for the best. I thought, in the very least, you deserved to understand why you should never know."

"What?"

The boy whirled around, ready to bite back as hard as he could, to scream bloody fury, to make one final last stand.

He found, not the face of his father, but a cold, black hole ready to steal his life from him. For an instant, his gaze locked with the hungry steel maw.

And with a brilliant, final flash, for a brief moment in time, he felt that he may truly have understood everything.

**I...I**

That night, Asuka lay in her bed, just staring at the ceiling above her. She wasn't sure she really wanted to sleep, but she was much to tired to stay awake.

She sighed, as her thoughts drifted to Shinji.

Idiot.

Collapsing in the corridor on the way to a sync test. It was probably just a convenient excuse on his part to avoid responsibility for his actions.

He couldn't have really meant it, could he?

No! Of course not!

And then that damned video, she'd just had to watch it again, didn't she? Talk about sticking your hand out to be burned. And then, right at the end...

He was lying there on that road dying, so he thought he'd say something profound and dramatic just to get a reaction. Oh and it was profound and dramatic alright, she actually broke down in tears because of it, while the two other stooges _filmed _her.

It was humiliating.

Her, Asuka Langely Sorhyu, who had sworn never to cry again, actually reduced to tears by the last words of some slimy little maggot, who was too stupid to realise he wasn't actually dying.

It disgusted her.

And she hated herself for actually fucking believing it too. She hated what she had become _because_ she believed it.

She hated him for it to. She knew she hated him for it. She hated what she had become _because_ of him.

It was his fault...

She felt the tears come once again.

The whole fucking thing was _his_ fault.

Stoicly, she swallowed a whimper, glaring hatred at the ceiling bulb. If it could've wilted beneath her gaze, it probably would have. Instead, it merely flickered.

Still, a little voice inside her conscience chaffed at her, a guilty sick feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

Maybe he was telling the truth, it theorised, and she'd blown it up in his face. No wonder everyone hated her.

Silence...

No!...He can't have meant it. He just couldn't have. Good God she prayed he didn't. Asuka didn't want him, or anyone to think of her like that. It was a travesty, it was despicable, it meant she would be _dependant_ on him.

"He didn't mean it," she told herself, speaking into her tear dampened pillow. "He...didn't mean..."

Her voice trailed off as the blissful oblivion sleep finally claimed her.

What Shinji'd said, as he'd lain coughing and wheezing on that road, when she'd pulled close to him to check if she was alright.

In her dreams, she returned to that place, where he was lying, wounded on the wet tarmacadam. Every time, he coughed, whimpered, then slowly rolled his head to look right at her with heavy, tired eyes.

And then, he'd say it, in a weak, rasping voice.

"I...like you...Asuka."

**I...I**

Well, my first attempt at anything remotely darkish, even if it may be more 'late-evening-snack' than MidnightCereal. It's the best I can do right now. All you folks need to do is hit the magic button marked 'Review' and let me know if I should stick to doing SI's, space battlestars and guitar crossovers, or try something else like this. 

EDIT: It was brought to my attention that I left some prereaders notes in place. They have been deleted.

Slán Libh  
-EvSoc Dartz


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